


The Puffin Way

by Jetainia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Immortal Founders, Immortality, deaging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetainia/pseuds/Jetainia
Summary: A new student at Hogwarts bridges the divide between the Houses.





	The Puffin Way

"No," the immortal said firmly. "No, I won't do that. I shall not! You cannot make me return to a time where I knew nothing and must pretend to do so again. I am far too old to be gallivanting around with youngsters!"

Her companion merely rose an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, sipping the tea she had prepared before he had sprung this ridiculous plot upon her. She groaned and flung herself into the chair opposite him.

"Fine, but I do this under protest and only because I know you would not last one second in the shambles that your House has become."

"And that, my dear, is why you are the best of us."

She snorted and held out her hand. "Just give me the damn potion so I can get this over with. If I must lose all control, I shall do it with a cup of tea handy."

He handed over a small glass vial and she quickly uncorked it, poured the contents into her teacup and then immediately drained said cup—grimacing as she did so. Not long after, her body began to shrink as the potion set to work turning back time within it. In a few minutes, there was no longer a distinguished lady in her mid-twenties. Instead there sat a rather disgruntled child of about eleven.

She glared at her companion and grabbed the teapot, quickly refilling her cup and refusing to even think about doing the same to her friend's nearly-empty cup. If he was going to make her revert back to childhood, he could bloody well fill his own cup.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

It wasn't so odd to have children attend Hogwarts that bore the name of a Founder. There were always whispers, of course. People would always wonder if maybe the child would be from the Founder's line and the family was resurfacing. But they never were, and they never did. Headmistress McGonagall barely rose an eyebrow at the name on her scroll before she called it out.

"Puffin, Helga!"

A girl with lavender wound through her brunette hair stepped forward without trepidation. She smiled at the headmistress and then turned her smile to the old and dirty hat the woman held. With a grace not many eleven-year-olds possessed, she sat down on the stool and let the Sorting Hat be dropped on her head.

The hall was silent for a few minutes before whispering started up. The girl was a hat-stall, someone that didn't fit into one particular House and caused the Sorting Hat some difficulty. Never once did the serene smile on the girl's face fade and those that could see it wondered why it was taking so long. Surely she could belong in no other House than Hufflepuff? She even bore the Founder's name!

Finally, the Sorting Hat spoke. "Slytherin!" it cried and the hall was silent.

Slytherin? Someone they thought belonged in Hufflepuff was going into what many considered the most dangerous House of all? Helga Puffin merely thanked the Sorting Hat—which was not a common thing to do—and walked over to the Slytherin table. She ignored the looks her new Housemates were giving her and focused all of her attention on the remaining few students that were being sorted.

She chatted happily with those close to her when the feast began and was soon friends with the rest of the first years that had been sorted into Slytherin. When all the food had vanished from the tables and the students were being told to go off to bed, Helga followed the prefects to the place that would be her home for the next seven years. Maybe.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Helga ran her fingers along the walls of Hogwarts as she followed the crowd to the Slytherin Sanctuary. It was called the Slytherin Common Room now, but it would always be Salazar's sanctuary to her. Hogwarts reached out with her ambient magic and Helga returned the magical hug with one of her own. As much as she hated being back in her child body, she did love the place that was her first true home.

Her smile brightened when she entered the Slytherin Sanctuary and saw that Rowena's enchantments had held and kept anyone from modifying the place too much. Preservation and renewal charms had kept the furniture from giving in to old age and she saw what had once been her chair still sitting in the corner.

Ignoring the words of the prefects, Helga moved straight to the chair and sank into it. It was as familiar to her as the smell of lavender was. She remembered the nights she had curled up there, quiet and lost in thought as Salazar scratched away on a piece of parchment nearby. Aurora would sometimes wind around her shoulders, or the base of the chair when she wasn't busy cuddling up to Salazar.

Helga made a mental note to visit the Chamber of Secrets while she was here. She knew that Aurora had died several years ago—the pain shared by Salazar as his familiar died was proof enough of that—but she wished to see if there was any way she could grant the basilisk a proper burial. It was the least she could do for such a loyal and kind companion. Many a night she had woken from a nightmare to find Aurora slithering towards her and wrapping her up in a snake version of a hug.

The thought of Aurora comforting her brought back the memories of the nightmares themselves and her eyes darkened. If anyone happened to look at her during that moment, there would be no doubt in their minds that she belonged in Slytherin. The darkness that swirled within her normally kind eyes told of unspeakable horrors and the firelight cast enough shadow that she looked like a demon trapped in a young girl's body.

Helga quickly shoved her memories away. Such thoughts were not why she was here and she knew they were surfacing now due to her body being closer in age to when the events that gave her such darkness happened. She had beaten it back long before and done all she could to fill the world with kindness.  _That_  was why she had returned to Hogwarts.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The next morning, Helga Puffin broke all the unspoken rules and sat at a table that was not her own. She once more ignored the whispers circulating about her and smiled at her companions—who were all staring at her in shock. A single speck of green rested in a sea of red and was content there. When she showed no signs of moving and every sign of friendliness, the once stormy sea of red calmed and welcomed the intruder into their midst.

The pattern continued. Every morning at breakfast, Helga Puffin would sit at a table that was not Slytherin's. She didn't seem to have any particular reason for sitting at a table, nor was she merely circulating through them in the same order. Sometimes she would sit at a table for several days in a row—often talking to someone in that House earnestly.

Eventually, the population of Hogwarts grew used to seeing Helga Puffin at various tables during breakfast. She never sat at a table during lunch and always sat at Slytherin for dinner. As it became a more accepted sight, other students also began to move. At the beginning, they would hang nervously behind Helga as she confidently approached a table and invited them to sit.

In the course of a school year, the division between Houses had lessened considerably and the tables in the Great Hall were no longer a sea of one colour. Instead, they were a kaleidoscope of red, green, yellow, and blue.

Helga never returned for her second year and people wondered what had happened to the young girl with lavender in her hair and nightmares in her eyes. They didn't know that she had returned home and immediately curled up in the arms of her oldest friend; shaking with sobs as repressed memories were finally allowed to break through the fragile walls that were all her young mind could bear.

They didn't know that he held her tightly and whispered apologies as she cried for the pain she had endured and the friends she had lost. They didn't know that after her tears had dried and her tired body woke from a well-needed nap she glared at her friend and demanded the aging potion he had ready.

They didn't know that she smiled softly when she saw them in the newspaper or passed by them in the street without them knowing it was her. As Helga Hufflepuff sat in her kitchen and held a warm cup of tea in her hand, she smiled. There was always pain in the world, but there was also always kindness and she had helped the next generation learn the most important lesson of all.

Never judge someone on assumed information. The students at Hogwarts had once been taught that a House defined them and they had to live up to what the creators of the Houses had been. Helga knew that Godric had always tried to be brave, he had never given up and had wanted to pass on the ideal that so long as one tried, there was a chance they would make it through the night.

Rowena had always found comfort in knowledge. That was something she had understood with clarity and something she retreated to when the outside world had become too much. She had wished to provide a shelter for those like her.

Salazar had been intrigued by the human mind. He had taught his students to question everything and to always confirm their theories to the best of their abilities. He had shown them the best ways to seek truth, even if they weren't necessarily the kindest.

And Helga herself had merely wanted to stop every nightmare that she and others suffered from. She wanted to shine a light into the darkness that some children knew all too well. She wanted to teach them another way, one that was better. She wanted to give them ways to beat back the darkness as she used the routine of making food and the scent of lavender to do the same.

There was always something buried beneath the visible layers that was only seen when someone sought it out. It didn't matter how long it took to be revealed, so long as the seeker never stopped looking.

_It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop. ~Confucius_


End file.
